


there she goes (yet again)

by Sedusa



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Blood, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, F/F, F/M, Femslash, Gang Rape, Grooming, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Mild Gore, Multi, Nipple Torture, Rape, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Violence, Slurs, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-15 21:34:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18507526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sedusa/pseuds/Sedusa
Summary: "Just what the fuck were you thinking, Lohst?"Last name. She must really be mad about something. Brooke paled, racking her brain for any major infractions as she was dragged into the Men’s section, the linoleum abruptly turning to shower tile that scuffed Brooke’s heels, but her mind drew a total blank. She’d been so careful lately, hadn’t she? "Um. Is this still about saying hello to Jake last week? Because, like, I promise I didn't mean anything by that, I just needed a pen--""Shut the fuck up, you backstabbing whore." Brooke recoiled, and Chloe accented her snarl with a fist to the lockers.Halloween night was only one incident in a long pattern of behaviors Brooke knew all too well.





	there she goes (yet again)

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my God this took ages.  
> 1: Chloe and others say a lot of derogatory bad things. These are not endorsed at all. For one thing, they're under-educated because Middle Borough adults are (mostly) incompetent hacks, and for another, everyone except Brooke is casually Awful.  
> 2: They're vaguely late teens, probably of age, which is why I didn't tag this underage.  
> 3: If you squint hard enough, you can see my autistic Brooke headcanon. I'll explore this in significant depth in some other fic that isn't basically angsty porn.  
> 4: If you squint even harder, you might be able to tell I ship Jenna/Brooke, but it's a stretch.  
> 5: This is technically canon compliant with my series Lambs of the Lord, which is a Squip/Jeremy psychological thriller. However, you can choose whether to acknowledge it, as I don't think it'll ever be explicitly referenced, and doesn't happen for a while.

If you asked Brooke Lohst, _cunt_ wasn’t a good word to describe Chloe Valentine.

‘Misunderstood' fit much better. Sure, on the surface, Chloe was cruel--in fact, it would be easy to read her as... not cold-hearted, but rather, enthusiastically _violent._

After all, she never seemed as happy as she did tearing someone's life apart.

… but Brooke knew better. Chloe showed sides of herself in their quiet conversations she refused to let anyone else see: glimpses of regret, woven between casual sweetness. It didn't matter that Brooke was so often her hapless victim. Obviously Chloe just had a temper problem, and some days she couldn't help herself. That's all.

Not that knowing this helped the pain any.

Brooke's heart was pounding heavy in her chest. She’d caught a glimpse of Chloe shoving her way through the hall, murder in her eyes, and Brooke scrambled to shove her things in her locker. Just as she managed to close it, she was yanked away by the wrist--God, she hoped she could remember her new lock combination when she got back. Asking the janitor to cut it open again would be embarrassing, especially all bruised up.

Chloe dragged her towards the back of the school, into the hallway by the gym locker rooms. She stopped a moment, glancing between doors, and Brooke managed to squeak out a "h-hey--"

"Just what the fuck were you think, Lohst?"

Last name. She must really be mad about something. Brooke paled, racking her brain for any major infractions as she was dragged into the Men’s section, the linoleum abruptly turning to shower tile that scuffed Brooke’s heels, but her mind drew a total blank. She’d been so careful lately, hadn’t she?  "Um. Is this still about saying hello to Jake last week? Because, like, I promise I didn't mean anything by that, I just needed a pen--"

"Shut the fuck up, you backstabbing whore." Brooke recoiled, and Chloe accented her snarl with a fist to the lockers. They were lucky the showers were usually deserted at this time of day. "I'm talking about your little date at the fucking mall with that _whore_ Madeline."

Oh.

Oh no.

"That was, um, that was, uh--" fuck. Fuck! It'd been two months, how did she find out about that? It didn't mean anything! Maddie was still straight, she just wanted to 'try it out', and what was the harm in that? She seemed so kind, and she smelt like butterscotch, and the taste was so rich--

Brooke's head whipped to the side against the force of Chloe’s palm.

"I can't _believe_ this."

For a moment, she sounded so heartbroken.

And then she was grabbing Brooke’s collar, shoving her against the lockers. Pressed up against each other, Brooke could feel her chest heaving with every breath, and suddenly she worried Chloe had relapsed again. Did she really feel so betrayed that she'd shoot up again? A wave of guilt crashed over Brooke, and Chloe snarled.

"What, are you really that desperate? You know she'll do anything for money, right?” There was a special sort of malicious in her voice, reserved only for Chloe’s worst enemies. “She fucked my fucking boyfriend, Brooke! She could've given him _crabs_ or something!"

Then Chloe's face twisted from fury to disgust, and for a moment, she let go of Brooke. "Oh--ew, you didn't eat her out, did you?"  
Brooke's face turned a bright pink, and she was quick to shake her head. No. No, she hadn't done that with anyone, except for...  
Chloe sneered. “Right. Because I can _really_ trust you, huh? You wouldn’t just _lie_ to me, your _bestie_ , would you?”

Brooke shrank, letting out a small whine on instinct, looking away from Chloe’s eyes and rolling her wrists. The texture of her yellow cardigan--a parting gift, after an incident last November--did little to calm her nerves and crushing sense of guilt, and it was hard not to pull at the seams on reflex. She’d ruined so many cuffs this way...

Chloe slammed her first against the locker again, so close to Brooke’s face she could the heat of Chloe’s skin against her cheek. Chloe didn’t say anything for a moment, stepping close again, her eyes narrowed, dark and unreadable. Brooke hated when she got like this. She didn’t know what to expect.

“... I know you won’t hurt me like this again, Lohst.” Her tongue ran along her bottom lip, purple plum lipstick sparkling against spit without a single smear. She smiled. “But I still need you to understand how badly you fucked up.”

 _Shriek._ Chloe grabbed the hem of Brooke’s shirt, her acrylic nails scrapping the dip of Brooke’s belly, an abruptly terrifying sensation. As she tried to pull away, not thinking of the consequence, Chloe bunched the fabric, twisted, and--

It tore. Brooke’s arms wrapped around her still-covered breasts, but Chloe’s claws sank into the skin, and her eyes filled with baby tears, sucking in the urge to cry out as she let herself go.

Chloe snorted. “You dumb slut,” she said, and giggled. When Brooke looked at her face, she’d gone back to the gleeful menace she favored. Brooke concentrated on keeping her arms down as Chloe fished around her purse, pulling out the same lipstick she was wearing, and her phone. “Hold still.”

Chloe reached forward again. Brooke knew what she was doing: unhooking the front of her bra and pulling it, along with her cardigan, away, breasts falling free as Chloe tossed clothes to the side. She uncapped her lipstick, and the chill of the wax made Brooke shiver, goosebumps rolling off her shoulders in waves as she waited for Chloe to finish.

She knew what came next. Pictures. They’d done this before.

But there was no way that’d be all today.

Chloe was just so _mad_.

“There.” Chloe stepped back, capping the stick and shoving it in her purse. She giggled again, phone held out in front of her, flash on. “Oh, Jenna’s gonna be _pissed_.”

She took about five pictures in total, all from different angles. Instead of shoving Brooke’s nose in it when she finished, Chloe set both her purse and phone down, and put her hands on her hips. “God, you look pathetic. Those nipple piercings really make you look desperate, huh?” There was still amusement in her voice, but she sighed, sounding almost bored. “I wonder how many people will see you this time.”

Brooke’s ears burned. She never got used to the walk of shame the day after a punishment. But Chloe seemed tired of that routine, rocking on her designer heels and humming slightly. Thinking. As if she didn’t already know what she wanted. “You know, this isn’t enough. I don’t think you really understand how upset I am.” Her eyes rounded on Brooke again, narrowing. “I had to lock myself in the first floor bathroom when I found out. That place _smells_ .” She huffed.  
“But I was just so hurt, I couldn’t make it up the stairs. My mascara was _ruined_ because of you.”

“... I-I’m sor--”

“No. Shut up. I have an idea.”

Chloe grabbed Brooke’s wrist, earning a squeaky “oh!” as she yanked her from the lockers. Brooke’s mind reeled as she was dragged towards the entrance, before Chloe stopped, stepping forward by herself. She stuck her head out of the door. “Come on, there has to be someone… oh! Yo! Trent!”

Brooke went to cover herself, but Chloe smacked her hands away, glaring. Trent, part of Middle Borough’s varsity track squad and one of the many people Brooke had pined after since Freshman year--he was sweet sometimes, even if he laughed along with Chloe’s antics just like everyone else--came into view a moment later. “Hey Chl--” he stopped. Surprise at Brooke’s state of undress flickered over his face, only for wide eyes to turn into a grin. “Nice tits, Brooke. Was ‘dyke slut’ Chloe’s doing?”

Brooke face burned hot red. So that’s what Chloe wrote. She stared at her feet, humiliation rolling off her shoulders.

“Are the rest of you here?” Chloe asked. “Y’know, Dustin, Brendon--”

“Dustin’s out, but yeah, we’re here. Just the Seniors today. Why?”

“Oh, good!” Chloe let go of Brooke’s wrist, trusting she wouldn’t run (and she didn’t) as Chloe clapped her hands together. “Awesome! Go get them. Now.”

“Why? We’re in practice--”

“ _Now_ , dumb shit. Don’t you want a little snack?”

Trent’s eyes lit up. Brooke’s chest tightened. “Chloe--”

“Fuck yeah, I’ll go get the guys now!” Trent turned, and Brooke took a few shuffling steps forward, hands reached out, but stopped just short of the door. She knew better. She always knew better.

But sometimes, she wished she didn’t.

A moment later, the rest of the team came into view; four of them, Trent included. Their sweaty jerseys were thrown over their shoulders, skin glistening from the heat of the end-of-summer sun, hair ruffled and smiles bright. They’d been laughing on their way in, bumping into each other, the adrenaline of their practice leaving them wild in their cheer.

Gorgeous. They were absolutely gorgeous, and, oh, Brooke wished any of them actually cared about her.

They saw Brooke a moment later, all red-faced and topless. There was a chorus of whistles and increased laughter, which bit into Brooke’s skin. “Chloe’s on her shit again,” one of them said. _Her shit._ Yeah, she was.

“Here’s how this is gonna go, _boys_ ,” Chloe said as she grabbed Brooke’s arm, her claws digging in as she pushed her into the chest of one of them. “I want you to make this dumb little slut cry for my amusement. We’re gonna take some video, maybe a few pictures, and I’ll make sure _everyone_ sees it. If you don’t want yourself recorded, tough shit. You can leave. But,” and she grinned, bright and happy, “then you won’t get to raw her, huh?”

None of them left.

Brooke’s lip wobbled. She chewed on the inside of her mouth, hyper-aware of how her shoulders had begun to tremble.

There was no use begging to get out of this.

… but that’s what Chloe wanted. Begging and pleading.

The tall boy she was pressed against, Brendon maybe, grabbed her hip, smoothing over her curves like he was petting a cat, before his palm finally snaked around to grab her ass. Brooke took a deep breath, and closed her eyes, squeezing them together tightly, trying to focus on speaking. “Chloe. P-please. I’m just… I’m not on birth control anymore, and Daddy wants me home soon, and I… I-I can’t.”

“Oh, Brooke.” Chloe stepped closer. Her arms wrapped around Brooke from behind, her hands running over her Brooke’s naked chest, rolling Brooke’s nipples under her thumbs... only to sneer, and her nails abruptly scraped into areola. “We all know you’re a pregnant drop-out in the making. We’re just gonna help you get there faster.”

And then she was being pulled backwards.

There were benches only a few steps away. Brooke was shoved over, her back hitting the cold metal, and several hands fell to greet her. Someone yanked her pants off; another picked up where Chloe left off, pinching and tugging at her breasts. She yiped, her eyes only barely registering this flurry of motion, but behind everything, Chloe stood by. Laughing. “Look at her face!”

Someone kissed her. Their tongue pressed into her mouth, down her throat, and she sputtered. eyes watering. Someone else ripped her underwear off.

Abruptly, everyone stopped, staring at her full form. Marveling, like you would a work of art. An object for consumption.

She pulled herself further onto the bench for stability, wrapping her arms around her chest, but left her breasts free to avoid Chloe getting annoyed. She watched, as they all begun to unzip their pants; long, beautiful cocks sprung free, and she remembered the last time she went out with a boy. How she’d sucked him off, and how he left her snuggle up after. How she’d felt so warm. So safe.

He dumped her a day later.

“God, you really are crying,” Chloe giggled, and she handed her phone, still recording, to one of the others before walking back to Brooke. The boys stood there, cocks in their hands, quick pumps as Chloe circled. Her beautiful face had contorted and pinched into this gleeful disgust, as if watching an enemy having their skin ripped off instead of… this. After a moment of anticipation, she struck, grabbing Brooke’s wrists and pulling them back to slap and hold just above her head. Chole sat down, straddling the bench, legs spread to the sides of Brooke’s head. She looked up, eyes hungry and half-lidded, voice surly. “Make her squeal, boys.” And she winked.

They formed a semi-circle around her. The first to make the move to touch her sat upon her stomach; his weight made her hack, breathing labored under heavy compression as his palms swiped like sandpaper against her skin. He pushed her breasts up only to let them wobble back, and he laughed. “Gotta say, I never thought you’d have piercings.”

His hand wrapped around her left breast like a doorknob, fingers clenched in, tightening painfully. He let her go again, marvelling how the fat returned to form with each movement. The pads of his thumb and index finger pinched around the bud of her piercing; pulling, slowly, in an upward climb. Her skin tented, and even as she reached her limit, still he tugged on. “No,” she whispered, to a chorus of giggles. Her teeth clenched, and the force of his grip really felt like it might tear her open. “No, please, please don’t--”

“Don’t what?” He let her drop once more. She let out a sigh of relief, and he laughed. “Oh. You don’t want me to hurt you, do you?”

“ _Yes_ \--I-I mean… I… please. Please.”

“God, Brooke. You’re cute when you squirm.”

He smiled, soft and almost reassuring.

And then tore her flesh apart.

 _Screaming_. The metal pulled through her skin like butter. A static wave of nerve pain rip through her, through her stomach, through her cunt. She screamed and flailed and Chloe cussed, nails sinking into the skin, barking at Brooke to hold still.

More laughter.

It took less than a minute to see again through the cloudy stars, but it felt like an eternity, blinded by her own torture. Her breast throbbed a beat a second, and surely if she kept shaking so hard she would faze through the bench and seep into the floor. The one who’d torn her grabbed her bleeding breast with both hands, squeezing; his grin tinged with amusement as blood dripped out of her open wound in stripes of red. One thumb hooked into the wound, pressing in, earning another pig-squeal followed by an increase of incoherent pleading. “Jesus,” he laughed. “Hurts that bad, huh?”

“ _Fuck_ , Jason, don’t stop touching her.”

Brooke’s eyes briefly snapped to Chloe’s face. Flushed red; lips parted, eyes wide.

Excited.

Jason snorted. “You’re such a freak, Valentine.”

Chloe didn’t respond, watching Brooke’s chest bleed silently, save an audible panting. There was a sparkle in her eyes as she watched the red mess expand, captivated. Brooke’s hiccup sobs were ignored, her feelings inconsequential--or rather, an active reward for everyone else. Brendon came around from behind Jason, dropping by her other side to roll her intact nipple under his thumb. “Don’t fuck this one up,” he breathed. “I’m not into blood, and she looks fantastic. Wanna keep one thing whole.”

But he did remove the piercing the normal way, tossing it across the room just as Jason had--she’d have to find them later, least daddy get upset if he saw, but she couldn’t think about that now--and leaning his mouth down to her breast. His lips wrapped around, tongue flicking her to perkiness, forcing on her the sort of sensation she’d love normally love. These little lewd moans came from him, as if he was eating a creamy decadent dessert instead of sucking flesh, and he reached up, petting her cheek, this strange sort of affection that came across almost insulting.

Trent stepped forward too, grabbing at her thighs and spreading them wide apart. She heard the one with Chloe’s phone grunt something about turning the flash on, and then felt Trent’s shoulders touch her calves, his warm mouth coming to breathe into her. She bit her lip, choked sobs giving way to involuntary whines as a tongue pressed against her clit.

There was no skill to him; just this useless lapsing, something she would’ve had to pretend to enjoy from a boyfriend, but her terror left her hypersensitive and susceptible. She started to feel herself throb, dread pooling in with tale-tell signs of an orgasm began to swell in her stomach. “No, s-stop--”

“God, you taste so fucking good Brooke,” he muttered, ignoring her. He ramped up incessant licking, treating her like a fucking lollipop, and she didn’t want this, she shouldn’t want this, she couldn’t, she wouldn’t, fuck, God, no no _no--_

Brooke bucked her hips into Trent’s mouth, back arching, gibberish chattering coming from her mouth incomprehensible as she felt her body contract and contort in orgasm until, finally, she fell back with a _thump_ against the bench.

Chloe’s sounded so close to moaning. “One of you needs to fuck her before she starts leaking everywhere.”

Trent and Jason both pulled back. The cameraman, their track captain, stepped forward, grabbing her knees and shoving them to her chest. Her lip wobbled, and she looked up at him, pleading. Silent. Scared.

He kissed her so softly, it was almost sweet.

And then she felt his cock head against her.

She yiped, twisting in Chloe’s grasps to grab at anything and pull herself away, but he just pushed her hips down towards him, making the head of his cock pop into her. “Wait,” she cried out, tears rolling from her eyes as thick as the blood against her chest, “w-wait, please--”

He slapped her. Open palm. Her head spun.

Bracing himself, he locked eyes with her briefly, before his pelvis thrust against her in an irregular rhythm--once, twice, three times to gain proper leverage--and then, pounding. Pounding her into the metal, pounding as her clit throbbed and ached, pouding so she couldn’t feel anything but sickly nausea. As Brooke’s body adjusted, her eyes started to dry, hiccups turning into hollow sniffles. Her eyes strayed to the overhead light, blinding, rather then look at the boy gruning above her.

And then Chloe stood. Her breathing had turned labored; forceful. She turned around and stepped backward, framing Brooke’s face with her legs, preventing her from seeing anything else.

Brooke had to look at her.

In her.

Her underwear had been discarded at some point. Her cunt was a perfect swell of smooth flesh (she waxed), spread open with delicate rose-colored labia. Her aroused wetness was visible inside and around her, sparkling even with the light blocked out by her skirt.

Chloe smiled down at her, and Brooke had to strain to see her face over her breasts. “Open up. Lohst.”

She dropped herself directly onto Brooke, her thighs and mound forming a perfect suction cup. Her hips rolled over the contour of Brooke’s lips, her chin, her nose, and Chloe bit her lip as her fingers crawled into Brooke’s hair to pull her scalp taut. “Fuuuuck…” Chloe hissed. Her nails scraped, thin lines cut open by painted claws. “Lick my fucking clit, you stupid whore.”

And she did.

Because Brooke was a good girl. Because, despite all of Chloe’s sharp point--and oh boy did she have a lot of _those_ \--Brooke couldn’t help but yearn desperately for her approval, her _love_. Even if, in a situation like this with boys this mean, no one was so animalistically driven by their cruelty as Chloe.

She fucked Brooke’s mouth like she was nothing more than a toy, like her only worth was and will ever be the ability to get Chloe off. It was the sort of dehumanization only heard of as ancient history, only described as coming from Men. But that this was what Chloe is; pretty, perfect, beautiful Chloe, who would get so fucking mad over the tiniest things, who sauntered around like she was just _looking_ for an excuse to hurt someone--and she was. She knew what to look for and how to use it and Brooke, her consistently convenient target, was completely and utterly _helpless_.

She kicked her legs up and spun around. Still rutting against Brooke’s face, Chloe leaned forward, grabbing her tits--batting off the one who’d started sucking again--and hissing. “Look at this. Look at _you_. Fucking useless cumslut,” she snarled, and her nails dug once more into Brooke’s skin, pressure building and building until she was punctured outright. Her painful wailing was muffled by Chloe’s greedy, impatient cunt, slamming against her throat with every thrust of the hip.

She couldn’t breathe.

She couldn’t fucking _breathe_ but Chloe didn’t fucking _care_ . Babbled obscenities spilt freely from poison lips, sexualized insults flowing like the blood dripping below them, and she retracted her claws only to punch at Brooke’s skin open palm and closed fist. Chloe slammed down again and again with enough blunt force to bruise the skin in an instant, cackling and flailing and _screaming_ , and the boy, the boy inside of Brooke was getting faster, faster; pressing harder, in in _in_ \--

He was cumming inside of her.

And Chloe was cumming against her.

It was a sudden jolt, a spasm, and then, collapse. Trent and the others laughed, cocks in hand, asking when their turn was.

Cameraman pulled out. A second later, Jason was there, shoving himself inside. Chloe detached from the wet mess all over Brooke’s face, stumbling on her feet but quickly repositioning herself to pin Brooke’s wrists again with one hand. She motioned for the camera, and held it directly over Brooke’s face, flash on. “Let’s make sure we fuck this dumb slut until we’re all satisfied, alright?”

It felt like hours by the time they were done, but really, it was only 45 minutes.

Jason was all about experimental torture; he pinched at Brooke’s clit, forcing increasingly painful shockwaves through her, and at one point he stopped completely, his pinkie finger prodded unsuccessfully looking for the hole of her urethra, to try and penetrate her in a way no one else would. His cock was ruthless. His teeth at her throat could’ve torn her apart.

Trent was softer. Slow thrusts, and he rubbed and pressed against her with his fingers, successfully drawing another whimpering orgasm before she was could hold it down. He kissed with a disgusting passion, and Brooke hated herself for even briefly wanting more.

Brendon went right back to suckling at her breasts as he aligned his cock with her ass; without lubrication to ease, she bled, her virginal tightness making it difficult for him to go any faster then slow, intimate thrusts. He took so long. She sobbed and sobbed and sobbed and Chloe managed to get the energy to sit on her face once more.

Afterwards, as the boys went to the shower and Chloe pulled her panties back on, Brooke limped over to her discarded clothes, pulling her phone from the pocket of her jeans to check notifications. As blood and cum pooled out of her to the ground below, she stared at her Twitter icon, waiting for the inevitable DMs from anyone who saw the show. Her tattered clothing in hand, she wondered if she could make it to the showers, and whether she could handle the pain of scrubbing herself out. Daddy would be mad if he found out she was still full of cum when she got home.

High heels clicked up behind her, and she was pressed into. “Oh, don’t making that _face_ ,” Chloe whined. Her clothing had smoothed out perfectly, everything back in its place as if nothing had happened, and she wrapped her arms around Brooke’s chest, around her throat, as Chloe’s lips pressed to the side of her neck. “You know you’d have to learn eventually. You’re not mad at me, are you?”

“... I...”

“Oh come _on_ Brooke.” Chloe rolled her eyes with an exasperated huff. “Don’t be a baby.”

Brooke stared at her feet, shoulders stiff. _Baby._ Her eyes started to fill with tears again, and she quickly blinded them away.

Chloe stood quietly, waiting for an answer. When none came, she sighed. Her movements near-gentle, she turned Brooke around to face her softened face. “If you stopped making me so angry all the time, I’ll stop needing to punish you.” Her voice came out a silky coo, wrapping Brooke like bandages to her wounds, soothing and protective. “I love you. You _know_ I love you. We’re besties! I just have to make sure you stay in your lane, okay?”

“... okay.” Brooke rolled her lips between her teeth. “I’m sorry.”

“I know you are.” Chloe nuzzled against Brooke’s cheek, planting a kiss against her. “Tomorrow, we’ll go to Pinkberry, and you can make it up to me!”

She cackled her way out the door, leaving Brooke and the mess she’d made behind.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to talk to me about Chloe's awfulness (or anything else you'd like) at my Tumblr @full-course-identity, or my Dreamwidth of the same name.


End file.
